I rode on ahead and joined my friends at Ned’s house. Bart was unrecognisable. He was wearing an old grey habit, a relic saved from Ned’s monastic days. This made him indistinguishable from the scores of poor people who wandered the streets clad in items salvaged from the abbeys by dealers in old clothes. Wisps of straggled hair had been applied to his chin, culled, I soon realised, from Ned’s now-shortened beard. We set out on foot. Ned lingered by the drawbridge, occasionally passing the time of day with friends and customers, while Bart and I threaded our way through the slow-moving pedestrians, horses and vehicles crammed into the twelve-foot-wide carriageway.
It was on our third crossing that Bart said suddenly, ‘There he is!’
We were close to the centre of the bridge, by the Becket Chapel. It was easy to see why our quarry might have chosen his professional name. He was tall with thick black hair. His doublet and hose were of the same colour under a short grey cloak. He strode purposefully through the crowd looking to right and left. He was followed, a few paces behind, by one of his henchmen, a burly fellow with whom I certainly would not wish to pick a fight. Bart and I followed at a slight distance.
Black Harry emerged from the shadow of the great south gate, slowed and surveyed the roadway that opened out beside St Olave’s. Well, I thought, this is it. I took a deep breath and came up behind the ruthless murderer.
‘Master Walden. I believe we have some business to conclude.’
He turned to face me. His associate stepped forward to place himself between us, drawing a poniard from his belt as he did so. He was not quick enough for Bart, whose hand clamped over his wrist. The blade dropped to the pavings and Bart kicked it well away. The man spun round, fist raised.
‘Please explain to your friend that we are here for business and not a fight,’ I said, trying to project a calm I certainly did not feel.
Black Harry motioned to the other man to step back. He glared at me with contempt. ‘You have what I want?’
‘Indeed.’
He looked around. ‘Where?’
‘Within a few paces of where we stand.’
He looked at the people passing to and fro. His gaze passed over the wagon but did not rest there. ‘I don’t see him. You’re lying!’ He beckoned to his man. ‘Go and look!’
I felt a sudden twinge in my stomach. If the villain looked inside the wagon all would be lost. I thought quickly. ‘I don’t think your half-witted friend is likely to recognise Holbein beneath the disguise we have provided for him.’
Black Harry looked unsure of himself, probably expecting a trap. I pressed home my slim advantage.
‘You have some items to deliver to me. Where are they?’
‘At the other end of the bridge.’
‘Now, suppose I choose to say I think you’re lying. Then we’ll both be wasting our time.’
Behind his sneer I could sense his mind working, calculating rapidly. ‘Come with me and I’ll show you.’
‘Oh, I think not, Master Walden.’ I laughed and hoped it did not sound nervous. ‘This will be a satisfactory place for our transaction.’
‘Don’t try to dictate terms to me. If I give the signal, the bearns die.’
Now who was bluffing who? My mouth was dry as I tried to calculate the possibilities. If Black Harry had brought the children, I had to make him convey them to my side of the bridge. If he had not brought the children, he would try to force me to show my hand. In that case the only thing I could do would be to get him close enough to the wagon for my men to grab him. We stared at each other, like wrestlers manoeuvring for a hold. I continued the verbal bout, my face, I hoped, not revealing my uncertainty.
‘Master Walden, I’m a simple merchant. Unlike you, I do not conduct my business by shouts and threats. I work on the basis of mutual trust. I am here to conclude a deal. If you’ve decided not to trust me, we have nothing further to discuss.’ My gaze flickered to Bart. He shook his head slightly, obviously horrified at the way I was speaking to this frightening man. But suddenly to me he was not frightening. I had been racked by so many emotions in the last few days that something inside me was shouting, ‘Stop’. It was as though I had broken through a fear barrier and my mind was numb. For the moment, at least, I could stand up to this monster whom Ned likened to absolute evil personified. ‘If you have lost interest in the painter,’ I told him, ‘say so and we can both get on with our lives.’ I paused before adding, ‘Although I imagine your paymasters will not be happy about that.’
There was a shimmer of uncertainty in the man’s eyes. I guessed he was not used to people standing up to him and he was, temporarily, disconcerted. ‘Have you lost interest in the children?’ he countered.
I shrugged. ‘They’re not my children. Frankly, they’re a nuisance. I’m sure you’ve discovered that. Why don’t you just send your minion here to fetch them. Then they’ll be off your hands.’
‘Don’t you tell me what to do,’ he snarled. Then, he turned abruptly. ‘Wait here!’ he shouted and walked back across the bridge with his subordinate.
I moved forward a few paces until I could see Ned watching from beside the gate. I nodded and he followed the two men at a discreet distance. Only as I turned back to speak to Bart did my limbs begin to shake.
‘What now?’ Bart asked, as we crossed the street to where the wagon was standing.
‘As soon as Ned reports that the gang are on their way with the hostages, we’ll prepare our reception. You and Ned must concentrate on freeing Adie and the children. Get them to Ned’s house. The rest of us will try to keep Master Walden and his friends occupied.’
‘They’ll put up a vicious fight.’
‘I’m sure of it, but they won’t want to attract a crowd. Black Harry can’t afford to have any of his men arrested. He’s only useful to his paymasters as long as he keeps clear of the law.’
Walt jumped down from the box. ‘We’re all ready, Master. Looking forward to a brawl. There’s a score to be settled.’
‘Be careful. They won’t fight clean. Any sign of unsheathed steel, and you back off. Is that clear? I don’t want anyone wounded or … worse. The plan is for you and the others to get yourselves between the gang and the hostages. That should enable Bart and Ned to get Adie and the children away.’ Put like that it sounded simple. I knew it would not be.
It was several minutes before Ned reappeared, puffing and wiping his brow. He sat thankfully on a stone mounting block. ‘We were right,’ he said. They have a wagon … quite large. I couldn’t see inside but I’d say it was big enough for Adie and the children and probably three men to guard them.’
‘Good, that means the odds are on our side.’
Ned shook his head. ‘The bad news is they’re not unloading their cargo. They’re bringing the wagon over the bridge.’